"C'mon, Follow Me, You Damned Insects...."
-- The Batman
Circuit I. The Bio-Survival System.
This Invertebrate Brain was the first to evolve (2 to 3 million years ago) and is the first activated when a Human infant is born.
It programs Perception onto an Either/Or grid divided into Nurturing-Helpful Things (which it approaches) and
Noxious-Dangerous Things (which it flees, or attacks).
The imprinting of this circuit sets up the basic attitude of Trust or Suspicion which will ever after trigger Approach or Avoidance.
IVANOV:
Why are you scaring My Robots?
(Afterwards, Mulder and Ivanov talk as a robot sits on the table next to them.)
For decades, my colleagues in artificial intelligence have attempted to create an autonomous robot.
By struggling to give their machines a human-like brain, they have failed.
(Mulder kneels down and waves his hand in front of the "bug." He touches the leg and it moves.)
A human brain is too complex,
too computational. It thinks too much.
But insects merely react.
(Another robot crawls over to Mulder. Mulder backs away, but the robot follows him.)
I used insects as my model,
not just in design but by giving them
the simplest of computer programs.
"Go to The Object.”
“Go away from The moving Object."
Governed only by sensors and
reflex responses,
they take on the behaviour of
intelligent, living beings.
MULDER:
So this one is just programmed to head
towards any object moving within
the field of its sensors?
IVANOV:
No.
(Mulder backs away some more, but The Robot still follows.)
MULDER:
Then why is it following me?
IVANOV:
He likes you.
(Mulder and Ivanov sit at a computer.)
MULDER: Your contract is with NASA?
IVANOV: The goal is to transport a fleet of robots to another planet and allow them to navigate the terrain with more intricacy than any space probe has done before. It, it sounds slightly fantastic, but the only obstacle I can foresee is devising a renewable energy source. In any case, this is the future of space exploration. It does not include living entities.
MULDER: I'm just speculating here, but if extraterrestrial lifeforms do exist...
IVANOV: Oh, there's no need for speculation, I believe they do.
MULDER: And assuming that they're more technologically advanced than we are, and if your own ideas about the future of space exploration are correct, then...
IVANOV: Then the interplanetary explorers of alien civilizations will likely be mechanical in nature. Yes. Anyone who thinks alien visitation will come not in the form of robots, but of living beings with big eyes and gray skin has been brainwashed by too much science-fiction.
(Mulder looks away, shrugging slightly. Ivanov stares at him. Mulder takes out a small bag with three insect legs.)
MULDER: Can you identify this?
IVANOV: I'm not really good with bugs. A cricket's legs?
MULDER: Try it under the microscope.
(Ivanov dumps the contents out in a small petrie dish and looks at the contents. The light to the microscope is bright red. Ivanov's eyes widen and he looks at the wall, flabbergasted.)
Are you all right, Doctor Ivanov?
(Ivanov nods.)
Can you identify that?
(Ivanov shakes his head slightly and mouths some words to himself.)
Sir?
(Ivanov looks at him.)
IVANOV: It's... beyond my comprehension.
(They stare at each other. (A cockroach crawls down the screen.))
MULDER :
Crap.
(They look at each other. In the early morning, it is raining. Firemen are hard at work as Frass walks towards them, wearing a raincoat. The agents are sharing an umbrella.)
FRASS: It's like a crematorium in there, I don't think we're going to locate the doctor's remains.
MULDER: Or anything else, for that matter.
FRASS: Still, it's not as bad as some of the other fires we had last night.
SCULLY: There were others?
FRASS: Four, to be exact. Plus eighteen auto accidents, thirteen assault and batteries, two stores were looted, thirty-six injuries all total, half of them from insecticide poisoning... but, we didn't receive reports on cockroaches or otherwise for the last couple of hours. Maybe this town's finally come to its senses. You two ought to go home and get some rest. You look pooped.
(He walks away. Mulder smiles. Ivanov rolls up to them, an umbrella attached to his wheelchair. Bambi, also holding an umbrella, watches him intently.)
IVANOV: Agent Mulder? They told me I could locate you here. Those, uh, segments you showed me earlier... may I examine them again?
(Mulder shrugs and reaches into his pocket.)
MULDER: Well, they're completely desiccated... just like the molted exoskeleton.
(He hands the bag to Ivanov.)
BAMBI BERENBAUM: You know, many insects don't develop wings until their last molting stage. Perhaps whatever these things were, they had their final molt and have flown off back to wherever they originated.
SCULLY: Yeah, that would explain everything.
(Mulder looks at her and is about to say something when Ivanov cuts him off.)
IVANOV: May I borrow this, Agent Mulder, for further study?
MULDER: Well, I've already had a similar sample analyzed, it's nothing but common metals. What do you hope to find from it?
BAMBI BERENBAUM: His Destiny.
IVANOV: Isn't that what Doctor Zaius said to Zira at the end of "The Planet of the Apes?"
(She nods, smiling.)
BAMBI BERENBAUM: It's one of my favorite movies.
IVANOV: Mine too. I love science fiction.
(Mulder looks at them strangely.
BAMBI BERENBAUM: I'm also fascinated by your research.
(She and the doctor start off.)
Have you ever considered programming the robots to mimic the behavior of social insects like ants or bees?
IVANOV: As a matter of fact, I have.
BAMBI BERENBAUM: You know, I read in November of '94 in "Entomology Extreme..."
IVANOV: Oh, I remember that...
BAMBI BERENBAUM: Your article about the pollination of...
IVANOV: Yes, I really enjoyed writing about that...
(Mulder watches them leave, saddened.)
SCULLY: Smart is sexy.
(Mulder looks at her.)
Well, think of it this way, Mulder. By the time there's another invasion of artificially-intelligent, dung-eating robotic probes from outer space, maybe their uber-children will have devised a way to save our planet.
MULDER: You know, I never thought I'd say this to you, Scully... but you smell bad.
(He smirks and walks away, taking the umbrella with him.)
SCENE 19
MULDER'S APARTMENT
(Mulder sits at his desk, typing up his report. He is also eating a rather large piece of cake that resembles a dung heap. We can hear him say what he is writing.)
MULDER: The development of our cerebral cortex has been the greatest achievement of the evolutionary processes. Big deal. While allowing us the thrills of intellect and the pangs of self-consciousness, it is all too often overruled by our inner, instinctive brain, the one that tells us to react, not reflect, to run rather than ruminate.
(He takes a piece of candy on the cake and eats it.)
Maybe we have gone as far as we can go, and the next advance, whatever that may be, will be made by beings we create ourselves using our own tech...
(It beeps as he presses the first key to the word. He tries it again.)
Tech...
(It beeps. He smacks the screen and it beeps three times. He continues typing.)
Technology, lifeforms we can design and program not to be ultimately governed and constricted by the rules of survival.
(He eats another piece of cake.)
Or perhaps that step forward has already been achieved on another planet by organisms that had a billion years head start on us. If these beings ever visited us, would we recognize what we were seeing? And upon catching sight of us, would they react in anything but horror at seeing such mindless, primitive, hideous creatures?
(He goes to take another piece of cake but sees a white cockroach on the plate. He picks up a stack of files, including the X-File for the case, number "667366," and goes to hit it. It crawls to the front of his plate and he watches it's head move, lowering the papers. It crawls out onto the desk and he slams the papers down onto it.)
[THE END]
